Clothes unmake the man
by candy-belle
Summary: Clint see something in the mess that reduces him to a flailing schoolgirl, much to Natasha's amusement. Story featuring Clint Barton, Phil Coulson and Natasha Romanov with fluff, flirting, pre-relationship, flailing!Clint, jean-clad!Phil and one very sneaky Natasha


**Title:** Clothes unmake the man  
**Rating:** 12  
**Summary:** Clint see something in the mess that reduces him to a flailing schoolgirl, much to Natasha's amusement  
**Featuring:** Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Natasha Romanoff  
**Genre/warnings:** fluff, flirting, pre-relationship, flailing!Clint, jean-clad!Phil and one very sneaky Natasha  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters of Marvel Movies. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.  
**Notes:** Anyway, as always this is unbeta'd so any mistakes you find, please, please, please forgive (I mean it PLEASE!).

The mess hall was thankfully quiet as Clint and Natasha wandered in. It was early on Saturday so most of the admin staff were missing and the few tables that were occupied were far away from the drinks station that they were heading for. Clint was working on autopilot not taking notice of anything other than his need for a post training coffee. Natasha though paused raking the hall with a knowing look. Smiling to herself as something caught her eye, she quickly hurried to catch Clint up. He had poured his own drink – it was an unspoken rule they never poured each other's drinks – and was lacing it was sugar after sugar. Only he seemed frozen in place blocking Natasha from getting coffee – something that was never a good idea.

"Move," she ordered, nudging him with her hip. When he didn't respond she huffed and pinched him lightly on the arm, snapping, "I mean it, move it!"

"Ow! Hey enough! No pinching," he yelped, glowering at her but then he turned his head back to where he had been staring before still not moving out of her way.

"Damn it, Barton," huffed Natasha getting ready to physically move him out of the way – he really should know better than to come between her and her coffee - when she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Glancing over her shoulder she smiled wickedly, only just schooling her face when he glanced at her.

"Is that…" she whispered, leaning against Clint as she took in the unusual sight greeting them.

"Yeah," replied Clint, his voice thick with unidentified emotions, "It is."

Glancing at her partner Natasha shook her head and giving Clint a friendly pat on the back, she teased, "Close your mouth, you're drooling."

"Am not!" protested Clint petulantly, although he did surreptitiously wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Not that I blame you," confessed Natasha, finally managing to reach the coffee pot and pour herself a cup of thick near toxic coffee, just the way she liked it.

"Wha'dya mean?" asked Clint, torn between looking at her and keeping his eyes glued to the unusual sight at the far end of the mess hall.

"He looks good," confided Natasha turning so she could lean against the counter. Cradling her mug against her chest she gave a knowing smirk and asked, "Jeans suit him, don't you think?"

Clint though wasn't paying attention. He was staring unashamedly at the sight of Phil Coulson dressed in jeans and a jumper. In all their years together as asset and handler he could count on the fingers of one hand the times he had seen Phil out of his suit – and most of those were due to a mission going pear-shaped. He had never seen his handler look, for the want of a better word, casual. Licking his lips, Clint sank back against the counter and glancing at Natasha, he gave a nervous little smile, asking hesitantly, "Am I that obvious?"

Taking a long sip of her drink, Natasha gave a slight nod, soothing, "But only because I know you so well," she paused, then smirking to herself, she warned, "Heads up, he's coming this way."

"What?!" exclaimed Clint, "No shit, I can't...what do I say... I…" For once the normally ice cool, completely unflappable archer was flailing like a nervous school girl.

Hiding her smile with her mug Natasha gave Phil a little wave before pushing away from the counter and sauntering away, pointedly ignoring the hissed, "Tasha, get back here!" from behind her.

"Natasha," called Phil warmly as they passed. She paused and gave him a knowing wink before disappearing out the door. Turning to look at Clint, Phil opened his mouth only to be beaten to it by Clint blurting out, "I wasn't checking out your ass!"

Phil cocked his head slightly and, taking a moment to compose his thoughts, he replied, "That's a shame I thought I looked in these jeans. Perhaps I should go ch..."

"Good?!" interrupted Clint, "You look amazing. Why have you never worn them before? I mean I've seen you off duty before but then I...and never without your suit pants and ...I... I…"

"Clint," chuckled Phil, soothing, "Relax. You're babbling, and as cute as it is, we are still on CCTV. I would hate to give Stark any ammunition to use against you."

Clint slammed his mouth shut, glaring up at the cameras sweeping the mess hall. He gave a little nod then sinking back against the drinks counter, he paused before asking accusingly, "You set me up, didn't you?"

"Me?" asked Phil with the blandest expression possible etched over his face.

"Yeah you," smirked Clint. Shaking his head he chuckled, swearing under his breath as he said, "You did this on purpose? You knew I'd be here this morning and you…" his voice faded into a wry snigger as he suddenly realised something, "Tricky bitch! That's why Tasha was so insistent on coming down here for post training coffee. She was in on this."

"Language," chided Phil although the slight twitch of his lips showed his intense amusement at the situation. For a moment they stood in comfortable silence, their eyes locked in a silent conversation. Looking away first but certainly not backing down Phil offered, "I was about to head out to Central Park, grab a fresh coffee, maybe even a bear claw," he paused and fixing Clint with a piercing gaze he added, "You're more than welcome to join me."

Silence.

"If you've nothing better to do," amended Phil, a few awkward moments later, his expression faulting minutely.

"It's your day off," breathed Clint, his voice sounding strangely tight.

"I'm well aware of that, although I'm not sure what significance that holds for..."

"It's significant in the fact you want to spend free time with me," explained Clint, straightening up. He glanced down at his own clothes. He'd thrown on an old pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt after his workout. He grimaced confessing, "Sorry, I'm not really dress for company, I didn't know I needed to be dres..."

"You look perfect," assured Phil with a soft smile, "I mean," he added cutting off Clint's protest. "You're dressed perfectly for a walk in the park, coffee and a day of relaxation."

Clint held his gaze a while before giving him the biggest cheesy grin and asking, "Can I really get a bear claw?"

"You can have two if you behave and don't scare the ducks again."

"Hey," protested Clint, as they walked out of the mess, side by side – and if they were leaning in a little too much that they kept bumping shoulders and their hands brushed as they walked, well that was just a lucky coincidence – "That was one time and in my defence we had just been fighting robot ducks."

"If you say so, Barton," chuckled Phil, "If you say so."

"I do, I even put it in my report, which I finished on time," insisted Clint pausing to add weight to his argument. Phil glanced at him over his shoulder and shook his head fondly before continuing towards the main lobby. Clint watched him walk away for a moment, then as he was about to run to catch up him up, his smile suddenly grew into a massive grin as he realised being a few steps behind meant he had the perfect view of something that was normally hidden – Phil's jean-clad ass. And that was a sight he would never get enough.

FIN x


End file.
